Samhain

Holocaust looked down in annoyance at the human children. What do they think their foolish “trick-or-treating” grants them? Oh, that's right. People gave them candy. Holocaust shook his head. People these days desecrated Samhain, unlike those of olden days who respected it.
He heaved a sigh and beat his wings powerfully, eager to get to the circle of spirits. He landed at the edge of the forests, folding his vast wings as he dug his talons into the soft, yielding ground.
“A good Samhain to you, Holocaust!” Holocaust looked up to see Merope, a princess drowned by her husband. “Good evening, Merope,” Holocaust replied, offering his arm to her. “Well, this seems to be a good turnout,” Holocaust observed as they strode towards the clearing. “Oh, yes,” Merope agreed, nodding her blond head vigorously. “Even the White Banshee has come! It will be a long Samhain, from the looks of the crowd.”
Holocaust nodded. “All the better,” he remarked. “With all the silly contrivances that humans have put up, it will be a comfort to have a long Samhain.”
Merope smiled at him. “Oh, I forgot. You were staying near human children, weren't you?”
Holocaust shook his head, disgusted. “Yes, and if I hear another 'trick or treat!' again, I will lose my mind. What happened to the days when us spirits were respected? Now the great Egyptian Pharaohs are reduced into toilet-paper mummies!”
Merope sighed. “Those days were long gone. Ah, here we are,” she said, gesturing to the clearing with the massive bonfire in its center. “Let's enjoy the night and forget about the humans even for a few hours.”
Holocaust blinked. “Is that the Count?” he whispered, gesturing at a tall cloaked figure hunched in a corner farthest from the fire. Merope giggled, her sad countenance changing in an instant. “Yes, and see how he shies away from the fire!”
They sat down on a patch of ground next to a knight on a tall black stallion. “Korsakov,” Holocaust said, nodding to the knight. “How fare you?”
“Holocaust, good Samhain,” the knight replied, raising a gauntleted hand in greeting. “And the Princess Merope! A good Samhain to you, too!”
Merope curtsied, rising and daintily gathering her skirts. “A good Samhain, Korsakov,” she replied. Korsakov shook his head ruefully. “Thanks to the human children, I'm now called the Headless Knight!” He frowned.
“We are all a victim of the humans' jesting, I think,” Merope said. “But as I told Holocaust, let us enjoy this night and not worry about them for a few hours, at least.” Korsakov smiled at her through his helmet. “My lady, on Samhain, the night turns into the lifetimes of the spirits gathered here.”
Merope returned his smile. “Yes, all the more cause to celebrate!”
The Bell of the Underworld sounded, and the spirits quieted, gazing over to where Alecto, Hades' handmaiden stood, ringing her bell, slowing down time.
And the spirits' stories began.
Holocaust barely listened to the spirits, even though he relished the sights, smells and sounds of Samhain. He was waiting for Korsakov's story, one he hadn't heard before. The spirits always told their stories at Samhain, reliving their lives, telling them to the crowd. It was a Samhain tradition, before the humans came with their silly versions.
And amidst the swirl of thoughts, Holocaust heard Korsakov's story, told in a quiet and sad voice. He felt Korsakov's pain as the royal family fled from the revolution, and his hope that Anastasia had survived. And the failure of knowing that Anastasia is dead, and will never claim the crown again. His beheading...
Holocaust closed his eyes, feeling the powerful emotions wash over him, washing away the year with the humans.
And, as he opened his eyes, Alecto was ringing her bell, announcing Samhain's end. Holocaust got up, trying to grab at the few wisps of Samhain left in the air. He saw Merope and Korsakov before him. Holocaust nodded at Korsakov, showing his appreciation. Korsakov returned the nod, with a slight creak of his helmet. And he rode away on his horse, carrying his head aloft, a gesture of farewell towards Merope and Holocaust.
As the crowd of spirits dispersed, Merope turned to Holocaust, saying, “The knight has made Samhain meaningful.” Holocaust nodded, with a curt “Yes, dying for a cause.”
Merope rose to the air with a wave at Holocaust, and Holocaust spread his wings and flew, closing his eyes, and seeing the rosy dawn beneath his eyelids.